


Eats, shites and leaves

by TrexReach100



Series: The Lardo & Shitty Chronicles [6]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, feat the lardo nicknaming bingo square, holsom antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11349576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrexReach100/pseuds/TrexReach100
Summary: “Dude just ask her out already!”Shitty smacks the puck into the bar of the goal and Johnson taunts him, “The puck represents your blocked thought process.  This is gonna illustrate your frustration Shitty!”“Shut up Johnson!” Shitty takes another puck from the pile and shoots it into the pipe again.  Goalies are weird.





	Eats, shites and leaves

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic is set a few months after '[Evil does not enjoy chicken tenders](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10480383)'

“Dude just ask her out already!”

Shitty smacks the puck into the bar of the goal and Johnson taunts him, “The puck represents your blocked thought process.  This is gonna illustrate your frustration Shitty!”

“Shut up Johnson!” Shitty takes another puck from the pile and shoots it into the pipe again.  Goalies are weird.

“Serious what’s stopping you?” Holster takes aim and shoots the puck, it goes wide and slides into the wall.

“Can you see the crease or do I gotta come out of it?” Johnson taunts.

“Shut up Johnson!” He hollers.

Johnson laughs.  “The guy after me is gonna be so much more involved.”

Shitty and Holster share a look, take aim and shoot at the same time.  Johnson blocks both.

“Alright guys that’s it!” Coach yells across the ice, “Peewee game is on in thirty minutes clean up and get out!”

Rans shouts for Holster.  “Holtz!” He has two hockey sticks crossed over in his hands and he bends in half low to the ice, “Come push me!”

Holster skates over and starts to push Ransom across the ice using the v of the sticks to collect the pucks.  Ransom makes zooming noises as Holster pushes him around.

“Jesus Christ! What are you two doing? Quit dicking around I’m not being chewed out by middle school mom’s again!”

Holster straightens up without warning and Ransom falls flat on the ice.

Shitty ‘shoots’ a puck at Ransom’s dick.

“Fuck you nugget balls!” Ransom grouses and it’s hard to tell whether he’s insulting Holster or Shitty or both.

“I’m serious what’s the worst that can happen? She says no?” Holster still won’t drop it.  After helping Ransom clear up the pucks- _‘You drop a bro, you help a bro.  Bro code!’_ everyone files into the locker room to strip off, wave their dicks about, shower, rat tail one another then get dressed and go eat a mountain of food.

As Shitty walks past he hears someone say to Jack, “Dude do you think they have chicken tenders in the dining hall?”

Jack replies, “I dunno man.” But shitty knows he’s really saying, “I fucking hope so.”

Jack Zimmermann chicken tender King.

Shitty rips off his jersey and gets to work unstrapping and peeling down sweat sodden layers of foam and plastic.  He doesn’t even want to think about what his lycra’s gonna smell like.

“Jock!”

A white jock comes flying over their heads and hits Mazzy in the face.  “Bro that’s nasty!”

Shitty wipes a hand through his hair, he’s working up more of a sweat trying to get his gear off than he did running suicides in it.  “I dunno man.” He says when he finally gets down to his shorts.

“Bro tell him to go for it with Larissa.” Holster doesn’t even have to turn to Ransom for Ransom to know he’s talking to him.

“Nah man don’t shit where you eat.”

Holster turns on him so fast Shitty hears the whip of wind past his face.  “Are you fucking serious?”

“He’s right.” Shitty sighs slumping down and peeling down his gross socks.  They reek and being the ultra-tidy individual he is he shoves them in the bottom of his kit bag and tells himself not to forget to take them out and wash them.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t.  It could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“Or the beginning of one with a terrible end which will result in super awkward meetings and one or both of them quitting.”

“Shitty wouldn’t quit.”

“Which,” Shitty points out, “Would assume that Larissa had to quit because the women always have to quit when it comes to work relationships gone sour because apparently men’s lives mean more and it would be much more disruptive for them to have to give up as a result of facing up to consequences of a choice they made.” He takes a breath, “It’d be punishing her for my mistake.”

“Dude.”

“Also she could say no and it could still be awkward.”

“Bro you wouldn’t make it awkward you’d be super respectful of her decision.” Holster says.

“Well of course I would but she doesn’t know that.  We barely even know each other.  I just know she’s hot!”

“Uh guys?”

All three boys look round to see said manager and hot girl standing in the doorway.  Shitty hopes she hasn’t heard their conversation, there’s a lot of noise and even more now that some of the squeamish boys on their team have all run to the showers moaning about how their dicks were out when the lady swooped in.  It takes the aversion of Larissa’s eyes from Shitty’s though to confirm his fear.

She heard them.

“Make sure to pick up all your jocks before you leave and replace all the cups.  Mazzy was free balling and he just chewed me out for it.”

Shitty throws a glare at Mazzy who is in turn glaring at Larissa.  Shitty glares harder at him for it.

“Sure thing Larissa.”

“You can just call me Lars or something.”

“You should probably get a nickname seeing as your technically part of the team.” Holster points out.

“Dude she picks up our jocks and cups, that makes her part of the team officially.  She needs a nickname.” Ransom declares.

Larissa grins.

“What’s the rule again?” Holster asks but it’s said in a way that shows it’s more for Larissa’s benefit than because he can’t remember.  This is Hockey shit, Holster always remembers Hockey shit.

“First syllable of the last name, or first, and anything s, er, or y.” Ransom tells him in a scholarly tone.

“My last name is Duan.” She reminds them.

Shitty watches their exchange not daring to speak in case she remembers what she heard and doesn’t get to experience this moment in favour of feeling like she has to duck out and avoid the awkward.

“Duans? Du-er? Duy?” Holster screws up his mouth to make the sounds but none of them appeal.

“Larsy? Lary? Lardy”

“How about Lardo?” Shitty can’t help himself it just comes out.

“Lardo!” Ransom and Holster say in unison and high five.

“Lardo is good.”

“Oh and it also sounds like lard ass which is extra hilarious because you’re like super tiny.”

“I am not that tiny, you guys are just giants.”

“Yeah but Shitty ain’t.  He’s short.”

“5”10 is a perfectly respectable height.  I defy your masculine standards that dictate I must be six foot or else find myself relegated to the back of the line when it comes to mates, dates and hockey.”

“5”10 is kind of short for a guy though.” Larissa – no- Lardo snickers.

“Bro burn!”

Shitty grins wryly at her and she winks at him before turning back out of the locker room.

“Nah you’re right man.” Holster says when they finally get up to head to the showers, “You can’t ask her out now.”

Shitty nods and mourns his loss underneath the hot spray.

**Author's Note:**

> Come at me with your checkplease HC's over at [Fanaste](http://fanaste.tumblr.com)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


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